seemeth to be a setter forth of strange gods” (Acts xvii. 18), “and they took him and brought him unto Areopagus, saying, May we know what this new doctrine, whereof thou speakest, is? for thou bringest certain strange things to our ears; we would know, therefore, what these things mean” (verses 19-20).  And then follows that wonderful characterization of those Athenians of the decadence, those dainty connoisseurs of the curious, “for all the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell or to hear some new thing” (verse 21).  A wonderful stroke which depicts for us the condition of mind of those who had learned from the Odyssey that the gods plot and achieve the destruction of mortals in order that their posterity may have something to narrate!

Here Paul stands, then, before the subtle Athenians, before the graeuli, men of culture and tolerance, who are ready to welcome and examine every doctrine, who neither stone nor scourge nor imprison any man for professing these or those doctrines—­here he stands where liberty of conscience is respected and every opinion is given an attentive hearing.  And he raises his voice in the midst of the Areopagus and speaks to them as it was fitting to speak to the cultured citizens of Athens, and all listen to him, agog to hear the latest novelty.  But when he begins to speak to them of the resurrection of the dead their stock of patience and tolerance comes to an end, and some mock him, and others say:  “We will hear thee again of this matter!” intending not to hear him.  And a similar thing happened to him at Caesarea when he came before the Roman praetor Felix, likewise a broad-minded and cultured man, who mitigated the hardships of his imprisonment, and wished to hear and did hear him discourse of righteousness and of temperance; but when he spoke of the judgement to come, Felix said, terrified (emphobos genomenos):  “Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season I will call for thee” (Acts xxiv. 22-25).  And in his audience before King Agrippa, when Festus the governor heard him speak of the resurrection of the dead, he exclaimed:  “Thou art mad, Paul; much learning hath made thee mad” (Acts xxvi. 24).

Whatever of truth there may have been in Paul’s discourse in the Areopagus, and even if there were none, it is certain that this admirable account plainly shows how far Attic tolerance goes and where the patience of the intellectuals ends.  They all listen to you, calmly and smilingly, and at times they encourage you, saying:  “That’s strange!” or, “He has brains!” or “That’s suggestive,” or “How fine!” or “Pity that a thing so beautiful should not be true!” or “this makes one think!” But as soon as you speak to them of resurrection and life after death, they lose their patience and cut short your remarks and exclaim, “Enough of this! we will talk about this another day!” And it is about this, my poor Athenians, my intolerant intellectuals, it is about this that I am going to talk to you here.